Lazy Salvation The Enemy Named Himself

"Partner."

'Oh, if it isn't my dear Lucy.'

For a tiny mont when he heard that voice, Ashen almost wanted to drop everything and embrace her right then.

She fixed a strand of her flowing pink hair and settled those lazuli eyes on him with nonchalance. "Seems like you're having a rough ti."

Under that nonchalance and light tone, the familiar obsessive love that always lurked behind her gaze when she laid eyes upon him was also faithfully replicated.

…making Ashen's resolve to ignore her all the more monuntal.

"Mmm… how many years was it now? Sixty-one? Sixty-two?"

"..."

"You must be getting really bored now, I'd venture." She glanced around the white space, approaching with effortless steps.

Ashen caught the distinct click of her high heels, and soon her office-lady-clad figure ca into clearer view.

When she reached to hold onto his forearm, he closed his eyes, but did not push her away. Even if it was rely a ghost of his lover, he could not bear to do it.

…and she took advantage of that.

"How about taking a rest for a while?" Her hands flowed, and her fingers interlocked behind his neck. "Day in, day out, endlessly brandishing your spear over and over again. It is a miracle that the sheer boredom of repeating the sa task did not take your sanity away."

Endure, Overco. Endure, Overco. Endure, Overco.

She pressed herself more against him, "A small break wouldn't hurt, perhaps?"

Endure, Overco. Endure, Overco. Endure, Overco.

Her fingers let go of each other in favor of grasping the locks of his black hair. She caressed gently and pressed her body even closer, until her lips brushed his ear.

"...While we are at it, you can use as you like, just like always."

The chants had grown almost booming in his head, but Lucia's voice—No. This ghost's voice seed to be persistent. Like the whispers of a devil, they found their way to be heard no matter how loud the chant evolved.

"What do you say, hnng?" Lucia's voice turned sultry, making him entertain the thought for a brief mont.

So what if he let go for a couple of days? He had a whole dreamscape to entertain himself with for fuck's sake!

Boredom should be the least of his worries!!

Here, he could be a king, an emperor, or even a fucking jester! He could taste all the delicacies he knew of and manifest any scenario he could imagine.

Even his loved ones, as long as he turned a blind eye, he could pretend that they were real, allowing himself to enjoy their company.

If he faithfully used all of his mories to conjure them, even he would no longer tell the difference between genuine and fake.

As long as he wished it, he could live freely within the confines of his mind.

His body was held by the faithful Somatic Autonomy now, so the only obstacle holding him from the sweet taste of freedom, no matter how fake it was, was—

"Himself."

Lucia finished the thought as if it were part of her own. Ashen blanked for a second before abruptly rembering that this was a ghost conjured by him to convince himself to take a break.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

…Of course, it could follow his thoughts. But this act gave him enough clarity to catch himself before he was convinced.

Endure, Overco.

Endure, Overco.

Taking a break might have been an okay thought at first glance, but Ashen knew sothing about himself. Under all of this endurance and after preserving for many decades, he was like a man at the end of his breath.

If he closed his eyes once, he may not open them again.

Or like a sleepless person lying down for just a minute and waking eight hours later.

And Ashen refused to be that wretched person anymore.

Using his own imagination to drown himself in a fake world with fake people, all while forgetting reality…

He would never sink that low.

The re thought reminded him of his deadbeat past self, and the re idea of going back there sent deep terror into him. But more than that, he knew that he would never be able to look into Alice's eyes if he reverted.

'Besides… freedom would be out of reach if I just followed the easy way out.'

He looked at the woman clinging to him and smiled softly.

"When I see you next ti, you'll be punished for being such a naughty girl, my dear Lucia."

As the words left his lips, his glazed eyes no longer seed to rest on her. They drifted, unfocused, as if addressing soone entirely absent.

The ghost only offered a smile in return before finally vanishing.

Endure, Overco.

⛧

⛧

⛧

After the last mishap, where he had almost lost himself to boredom, Ashen had recognized that he needed a change of scenery.

…preferably having nothing to do with Dreamweaving.

The only other place he could access aside from his mind was reality, so here he was, once again inside the circle with a rock on his shoulders.

He was here to et a friend either way, so it was just right.

He knew for certain that the appearance of those ghosts grew with his loneliness, not his boredom. Yet that did not stop his mind from using their voices to echo the excuses he whispered to himself, convincing him, deep down, to take a break.

The only way to combat that was to talk to soone real, soone aside from himself.

The other Ashen would barely count, but the man didn't utter a single sentence for the last six decades. So that was a no.

He wasn't waiting for Edward, either. Judging by the state he'd seen the last ti his teacher had co by, Ashen wasn't sure he would be back anyti soon.

Aside from them, no one else seed to co for a visit. 'Probably teach's doing.'

So the friend in question was, by process of elimination, obvious.

"Of course it is you, my charming, naughty spear!"

…Yes, Ashen's had unfortunately beco crazy enough to befriend his old torntor, the mischievous spear.

It had started when he reached the fifty-year mark. Back then, he was ready to go mad with loneliness, so he started talking to himself more and more.

But soon, it beca clear that arguing with himself served to solely fuel his craziness instead of alleviating it.

That was when he turned his attention to the spear planted in the earth beside him. Even if it were an object that did not answer back, at least he could pretend that it listened. At least it was real.

Just like that, he started bombarding it with his own grievances, complaints, Sarcastic observations

The addressed audience of one inscribed face did not respond, of course, but when he told a joke or a funny thought, and the inscribed face smiled coincidentally, he treated it as if it truly understood him and was smiling alongside him.

Over ti, he learned to distinguish its playful smiles, even down to how far the line of its mouth shifted. He had catalogued more expressions in that carved face than most people managed in a lifeti of conversation.

That was rely the start. He did not understand when or why he did it, but along the way, whenever he spoke to it, his mana moved to warp the shaft and then the blade.

Maybe he wanted to feel it better using mana as a dium, or maybe he wanted it to feel his intent through mana in hopes of making it understand him…

Either way, the act of coating the spear with his mana had beco akin to a ritual that he must do before he spoke to it.

…Just like today.

He let his mana flow into the shaft, feeling the familiar grain of it, alongside the slight warmth the tal had accumulated from decades of morning sun.

"So, you playful stick, how are you doing on this fine day?"

He gave it a mont.

"Is the ground still as comfortable?"

Another lull.

"I don't know what materials went into you, but judging by how your blade still shines after all these years... they must have been sothing."

He looked at the inscribed face. The smile held its usual easy curve.

"How am I, you ask?"

He let the question linger for a few seconds.

"I don't know, friend… I really can't tell anymore. If I had to put a word to it... hollow endurance, maybe. It keeps going, but there's nothing behind it right now."

The blade caught the morning light and reflected it on his tired face for an instant.

"Either way, you don't have to worry too much. We're in this together."

He watched the face a mont longer.

"Anyway, it was nice speaking to you after so long. I'm going back to working on my spear, if you don't mind. Gotta see how much I can push things, hehe."

"Wish luck."

His body did not go anywhere, but his mind had already retreated inwards, to the world of his dreams.

…and he failed to notice that the spear's last smile had turned a little bit less playful and a little more… lancholic.